I worked to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. “My statement?”
He nodded once. The gesture was violent.
“I don’t need to make a statement,” I whined. “Nothing happened.”
Panic had begun crawling up my throat. The thought of police coming here, into my beautiful bakery, my safe space, forcing me to talk about what I was trying my best to repress... Forcing all the attention on me, then onto Nathan whose mother would make it her life’s mission to ruin me if I marred her perfect son’s perfect reputation any further made me want to faint.
“Those are your options,” Rowan shrugged, not taking his eyes off me. “Either you take off your sweater, or I get the cops down here.”
“This is insane,” I hissed. “You can’t march in here and give me ultimatums.”
Rowan didn’t say anything. He just kept staring.
He wasn’t touching me or restraining me in any way. I was well within my power to turn around and walk away. There was a whole bakery of people within yelling distance, my best friend being one of them. And Tina, I knew, would not hesitate to go head-to-head with Rowan if she thought I was being threatened in any way.
But I wasn’t being threatened.
That I knew.
In spite of his anger—which had become a physical thing—in spite of our huge size discrepancy, even in spite of his commands, I knew that Rowan would not hurt me. This thought did not have evidence to back it up, yet I knew it just the same.
“If I take off my sweater, you’re not allowed to call the police,” I informed him for reasons unknown.
Rowan’s jaw stiffened, and there was a long pause before he finally nodded.
I slowly took off my sweater, bunching it in my hands, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and small under his gaze.
What I was expecting when he saw the bruises, I didn’t know. Maybe some kind of outburst. Swearing. More of the glowering, the glittering fury. But none of that came.
Instead, an impossibly gentle, barely there touch ghosted over the skin of my upper arms.
My body electrified under that touch. I was frozen as he delicately trailed the spots where Nathan had grabbed me.
One of those fingers found their way to my chin, tilting it upward so I was no longer staring at the sweater bunched in my hands. My eyes got lost in his.
“Tell me what happened, cupcake,” he murmured softly.
Not that furious soft like before. Just plain soft.
He called me cupcake.
His fingers were still brushing my upper arms. His eyes were melty, warm… safe.
There was no other option but to tell him everything that had happened.
Those eyes didn’t stay soft once I explained everything. Actually, they hardened the second I said Nathan was inside my house when I got home, then turned to stone when I said the rest.
But his hands stayed on me. The grip never tightened. Not even a little. His fury did not leech onto my skin.
The fury that needed to be explained. He didn’t know me. Not beyond the scant interactions we’d had. Yet he was there, touching me in a way that could only be described as intimate. Calling me cupcake. Making my insides liquefy.
“You’re gonna stay here,” he said once I was done. “Gonna finish out your day. Not gonna do that alone.” He jerked his head to where the counter was. “Your spitfire Australian friend is gonna stay. Probably Tina too. I’m gonna come back, either here or your house.”
That was a lot of information. A lot of orders. Orders that made no sense for a litany of reasons, the most of which being I did not believe that a man had a right to order a woman around. Ever.
And because Rowan and I were practically strangers.
There were questions to be asked. Arguments to be had. Lectures to be made on feminism and the rights afforded to me as a strong woman and human being who was his equal.
Yes, all of those things needed to be said.
But I didn’t say them. I blinked at him dreamily then said, “’Kay.”
Rowan’s eyes went melty again.
He did not move. His fingers were still gently brushing my arm, my chin cradled in his other hand. His delicious scent was imprinting all over me, and I was either having a mini stroke or a mini orgasm… Maybe both.
A moment, thick with tension and tenderness, hovered over us.
“Rowan,” I said in not much more than a whisper.
“Yeah, cupcake?”
“What is this?”
His mouth turned upward ever so slightly before he leaned in and kissed me gently on the forehead. When he pulled back, our faces were inches apart.
My heart thrummed.
“This,” he murmured, eyes glued to mine, “is the beginning of us.”
Then he just turned and walked away.
ROWAN
“Kip,” I barked, striding out from behind the counter. I ignored everyone staring at me, though Tina’s sharp gaze was hard to ignore. That woman scared me more than any man could. It was clear that she was protective over Nora, which made me happy. And it was also clear that, if she wanted to, she could fuck up whomever she decided to. She could fuck up Nathan with her eyes closed. I would’ve put money on the fact that she was planning something at that coffee machine.